


Untitled Punk!Cas Prompt

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, High School, M/M, Punk Castiel/Nerd Dean Winchester, Trope Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 18:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: Written for the prompt: A Punk!Cas meeting and initially hating Dean for not /getting/ his world would be lovely. I hope you have a lovely day, Fea!





	Untitled Punk!Cas Prompt

**Author's Note:**

> [Written and posted to tumblr on January 28, 2015.](http://herowords.tumblr.com/post/109376090091/you-asked-for-prompts-a-punkcas-meeting-and)

Castiel kicks mud off his boots and shoves his free hand deep into the pocket of his jacket. He flicks at the glowing butt of his cigarette, and pushes his weight against the school building, eyes trailing across the parking lot to where he hears the low rumble of a shiny, black, 1967 Chevy Impala pulling into the parking lot.

_Fucking, Dean Winchester._

Castiel takes another puff, holding the nicotine in his lungs a beat longer than normal before pushing it past his lips. Of everyone that’s ever blatantly stared at Castiel, eyed judgmentally the bright streaks of color in his hair and the piercings on his face; for everyone who’s scowled at his tattoos or his wardrobe, Dean Winchester is by far the most irritating.

If anyone should be stared at it’s Dean in his super hero t-shirts and glasses that look like they’re better suited in a Woody Allen film than on the face of a teenager. It’s ridiculous really.

And the ultimate worst part about it is, Castiel can’t seem to stop staring back at Dean. Whether it’s out of malice, or intrigue, he isn’t sure anymore, but more often than not his eyes are trained in Dean’s direction, watching the green-eyed, freckle-faced teen’s every move.

As Dean crosses the parking lot, Castiel realizes the other teen is due to pass right by him on his way inside. He could just duck into the building now, Dean might not ever even know Castiel had been there in the first place, but it’s been a shitty morning and Castiel’s in the mood for an argument. He decides to stay put and prepares to confront Dean; something he’s been meaning to do for months now.

When Dean catches sight of Castiel, Castiel watches his face twist from expressionless to something unreadable. It’s the same expression that’s been driving him crazy since he and Dean first caught each other’s gaze, the same expression that’s now making his fingers curl into a tight fist. 

He puts his cigarette out on the side of the school building and stalks towards Dean with menacing purpose. ”Hey, Winchester.” He calls out.

Dean stops, his school books clutched tightly in his grasp and his teeth sliding out to worry at his plush bottom lip. “Hey, Cas.” His voice sounds strange. Not unsteady, like he’s afraid of Castiel, but surprised maybe. They’ve never actually spoken to one another.

“What’s your problem?” Castiel bites out, getting straight to the point. There’s no need for pleasantries when it’s obvious how they both feel about each other.

Dean balks. “Excuse me? What’s  _my_  problem? What’s  _your_  problem, dude?”

“I want to know why you’re staring at me all the time.” Castiel demands.

Dean’s face flushes red, most likely out of anger, and he huffs. “ _You’re_  the one who’s always staring.”

Castiel’s eyes narrow. It’s true, he does stare a lot at Dean, and maybe in the several months since Castiel first saw him the line between who looks first and who stares back has blurred, but there’s still a tinge of righteous anger pulsing in Castiel’s veins, he can’t back down now.

“Don’t turn this around on me,” he says, as Dean’s eyes flit over Castiel’s face and land briefly on his neck. When his eyes meet Castiel’s again, the redness of his face has deepened.

“I don’t-” Dean begins, but Castiel doesn’t let him finish.

“You’re doing it right now.” He points out coolly. 

Dean’s feet shift beneath him and his grip tightens around his books. “I like your tattoo,” Dean finally mutters.

Castiel frowns. “What?”

Dean lets out a sigh and points to the bumblebee tattooed on the side of Castiel’s neck. “Your tattoo,” Dean says again, “I like it. I like  _you_. That’s why I’m staring at you all the time. …I think you’re hot.”

Castiel’s mind reels. That’s not what he was expecting. Not in the least. “You like my-” He stops, replaying Dean’s words in his head.  _I like you._

Castiel hastily reaches out and curls his fingers around the lapels of Dean’s jacket, dragging him in and sealing their mouths together.

Dean’s books plummet to the ground with a flutter of pages and a dull  _thunk_. 

“I like your freckles.” Castiel gasps into Dean’s mouth as the other teen reaches up to cup Castiel’s face.

“I like your lip ring,” Dean responds, his voice breathless.

“I like your glasses.”

“I like your tight fucking pants.”

“I like your leather jacket.”

“I like your hair.”

Castiel smiles, tugging gently at Dean’s lower lip with his teeth before pulling away to breathe. “I like you, too.” He admits quietly when Dean’s wide green eyes peer at him with assessment. 

“Then why the fuck are we wasting time talking?” Dean asks, a grin crawling to his face. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Idiot.” He mutters.

Dean tugs him close again, and Castiel’s eyes slide shut at the warm feel of Dean’s mouth moving against his own. Yeah, maybe less than 10 minutes ago he had every intention of punching Dean Winchester right in the mouth, but this works too.


End file.
